


At the Stump

by psychobetts



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, F/M, Inspired by Music, Married to Other People, Platonic Soulmates, Reunions, Riverdale Writing Challenge, The Author Apologizes, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-13 01:03:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17478332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychobetts/pseuds/psychobetts
Summary: I was digging my chin deeper into my chest, wishing for an umbrella—and a lot of other things—when I suddenly and forcefully collided with someone. I turned sideways at the impact and a large hand reached out to steady me“Oh shit, sorry!” a familiar voice apologized, “I wasn’t looking where I was going. It’s raining pretty hard!” He tilted his black umbrella until we were both shielded from the downpour.With the heavy rain falling like a curtain around us both, I lifted my face to look at the stranger whose voice I would recognize anywhere.“Jughead?Or - Former childhood best friends Betty and Jughead run into each other after many years have passed.Inspired byLaughter Linesby Bastille.





	At the Stump

**Author's Note:**

> I heard this song and I had to. _I just had to._
> 
> Forewarning - Bughead isn't a couple in this. They are completely platonic (with some implied feelings). 
> 
> Also, I'm going to apologize ahead of time for how this might make you feel. So sorry. You'll see what I mean.
> 
> Big thanks to Cyd / shrugheadjonesthethird and K / bugggghead for lending me their eyes. Love you ladies. xx

* * *

* * *

 

 

I kept my face down, tucked into the collar of my coat as I made my way from the post office to my childhood home. The rain began to fall harder the closer I got to my destination and I had to make an effort to step around the deepening puddles.

 

I had been away from the city for a few days already on a short leave of absence from the office. With no place to go to relax—other than my empty apartment which only reminded me of how alone I was—my parents had invited me to spend the week with them back in Riverdale. I had graciously accepted, eager for the company.

 

Years ago, I had moved to the city, throwing myself into the sea of commotion and potential promise of a new life. I landed a job in the legal field and a place to stay—and unlike most, probably more important than anything else, I had the determination to adjust.

 

But I never did. For the first time in my life, I just sank.

 

Since then, I’ve been treading water, trying to find some kind of solid ground beneath my feet. But I’ve felt the water slowly rising around me—above my mouth, my nose, my eyes, overtaking me. _Drowning me_.

 

I needed the self-imposed vacation back to Riverdale. I needed to, for a second, be able to forget how I’d failed in so many aspects of my life.

 

The cold breeze worked its way beneath the layers draped over my body, seeping into my skin and sinking through to my bones.  I tightened the belt on my coat and shifted the mail under my arm, hoping it wouldn’t get wet.

 

I was digging my chin deeper into my chest, wishing for an umbrella—and a lot of other things—when I suddenly and forcefully collided with someone. I turned sideways at the impact and a large hand reached out to steady me.

 

“Oh shit, sorry!” a familiar voice apologized, “I wasn’t looking where I was going. It’s raining pretty hard!” He tilted his black umbrella until we were both shielded from the downpour.

 

With the heavy rain falling like a curtain around us both, I lifted my face to look at the stranger whose voice I would recognize anywhere.

 

“Jughead?”

 

My old friend’s eyes regarded me and they were exactly as I remembered—a deep, clear blue. He squinted, looked me up and down, and tilted his head slightly. A look of recognition flashed across his features.

 

“Betts?”

 

I nodded, unable to speak coherently. In that moment, I realized exactly how close we were standing to each other.

 

He stared at me, eyes wide and unbelieving. “Wow, what are the chances?”

 

My lips widened into a grin. “One in a million,” I managed to choke out. I went to hug him and he embraced me back easily. With his arms around my waist, I felt like I’d finally found solid ground.  

 

“How are you?” I muttered against his chest.

 

He pulled away. “Good, good.”  

 

I couldn’t stop smiling. I wiped the remainder of the water out of my eyes to see him clearly. It had been so long. _Too long._

 

The Jughead that I remembered was a fourteen-year-old boy, not quite a man. He’d been gangly and tall with thick, messy hair hidden under a ragged beanie, expressive eyes, and a smooth olive complexion. He’d always worn plaid flannels—sometimes on his body, other times wrapped around his waist, but always with the same ripped Converse. Back then, he’d been awkward with most, but comfortable with me. Shy, and yet still incredibly charming.

 

He’d been my best friend.

 

This Jughead that stood before me now was still tall, but no longer gangly. He seemed to be built underneath his coat. He certainly wasn’t wearing plaid—I could see the ironed collar of a button-up dress shirt around his neck—but he was still wearing jeans. These ones, though, were dark and clean and paired with expensive-looking leather shoes. His hair, even wet, was still the same shade but far more tamed. He was the same, but older, more handsome, and bigger. Even his hands—

 

Everything slowed as I suddenly realized the biggest difference between old Jughead and new Jughead.

 

_This one didn’t know me._

 

I took a few steps back, out from underneath the cover of his umbrella. Again, the rain beat down on me, along with my sudden observation of a dull gold around his third finger.

 

He frowned and immediately reached toward me, with the offending hand, to pull me back under the canvas.

 

“What about you? How’s life treating you?”

 

 _Horribly. Atrociously. Terribly,_ I thought. But I couldn’t say any of those things. I also couldn’t say I was good, because that would be untrue. I had learned, over the past few years that when someone asks about the current state of your life, they’re looking for a decent answer. You have to give them one.

 

“Not bad,” I lied.

 

He nodded, seemingly satisfied by my dull answer. “Maybe we should go somewhere inside and catch up. Let’s get out of this rain.”

 

_Yes, yes, sure. But could we catch up on things like the news or the stock market or the latest sports team to choke and fail? The last thing I want to catch up on is your life. Your life that doesn’t involve me. Your life that is substantially better than mine._

 

“Definitely.” I heard my voice and it sounded far too eager for the turmoil I felt inside.

 

With a hand pressed to the small of my back and the other one holding the only thing between us and the onslaught of rain, he led me down the street.

 

As we were walking, I looked over to find him smiling at me and I was transported back to when we were younger.

 

_I was following him through the trailer park, through his small backyard, across the train tracks to the Northside of town, and down a short trail—a shortcut to a park. The park was in the middle of Riverdale and it had a playground, a walking trail, and a big clear pond with ducks. It used to have the biggest, tallest oak tree, but they cut it down five years prior. I wanted to feed the mallards, but Jughead grabbed my hand and led me to the old oak’s stump, his favourite spot._

 

_“Betts, I gotta tell you something,” he told me as I sat down on the stump. He crouched next to me._

 

_“What?”_

 

_“I’m moving... with my mom.”_

 

_Shocked, I started to cry. Completely bewildered, I couldn’t stop the tears._

 

_“But I’ll see you again! Don’t worry!” He patted the side of my face, trying to comfort me._

 

_“When?” I demanded through my tears._

 

_“Soon. Not long from now. Sometime in the future. We’ll be a little older, maybe.”_

 

_It didn’t comfort me, not in the slightest. I didn’t want to be older. I didn’t want to grow up, not without him. I cried harder and he tried again._

 

_“You know how sometimes when we hang out, we don’t talk to each other?”_

 

_I frowned and nodded. “What’s wrong with that?”_

 

_“We’re together all the time, so we never have anything to say. But when I come back, or you come to visit me, we’ll have lots to talk about. It’ll be awesome!”_

 

_No, it wasn’t awesome. It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth missing him._

 

_“I don’t want you to go.”_

 

_He stared at me for a long time. “I have to. My dad is sick and Mom says he needs us to leave so he can get better.”_

 

_I sniffed and ran my finger along the tree rings in the stump. Jughead always told me that this tree was the oldest because it had the most rings. The idea was strangely comforting._

 

_My fingers drifted to the deep grooves we had carved years before. My cries quieted as I traced the familiar shape._

 

_“I’ll see you later then?” I asked as I wiped the last of my tears away._

 

_He wrapped his thin arms around me and hugged me for a long time._

 

_“Of course, Betts. I promise.”_

 

I was jerked back to reality at the sound of his voice. “This is it.” He led me out of the rain and into a familiar, brightly lit diner. _Pop’s_.

 

I hadn’t been there in ages, and yet it all felt so familiar as we stood in the short line. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, him looking over at me every so often. He tried to break the silence that had once been okay between us. Now, it was just painful.

 

“So… what brings you back home?”

 

I didn’t even want to look at him, but I risked a glance to be polite.

 

“My parents,” I answered. “What about you?”

 

I caught a glimpse of a smile on his lips. “Visiting my dad, actually. Where do you live now?”

 

I pulled at my coat. The diner was really hot. “New York.”

 

“That’s amazing, Betty. You with anyone?”

 

It was an innocent enough question, but it hurt. I suddenly felt the lack of a companion like I would a missing limb.

 

I let out a slow breath. “No.”

 

If things had been different all those years ago, I might have been able to answer with something different. Maybe even something happy. If his dad hadn’t been an alcoholic, if his parents hadn’t split, if he hadn’t gone with his mother to Toledo. If he hadn’t left me sitting at that old tree stump after telling me, ‘I’ll see you later, when we’re older’. If he hadn’t lost contact with me after only half a year of mailing, things might’ve been different. My answer might have been _yes_ . _Yes, silly. I’m seeing you._

 

Actually, he would’ve never even asked.

 

His promises in the park meant nothing. They were a child’s, made in haste.

 

“Where are you living?” I heard myself ask.

 

“Camden, Philly.”

 

We reached the counter. I couldn’t concentrate enough to make sense of the menu, so I ordered what he did—a black coffee. In my haze, I didn’t even notice when he paid for both drinks. I didn’t want that. I didn’t need his kindness.

 

We said nothing as we waited for the teenager manning the counter to pour our drinks. He’d given up on the conversation with me, apparently.  I probably wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding my agitation.

 

When he handed my drink to me, it was with that hand. The sight of it stunned me again, twisting my stomach.

 

I followed him to the corner booth. Once seated, I took a sip of my coffee. It was too hot. Too hot coffee, too hot diner, _too hot_. I shrugged off my coat and pulled at my sweater sticking to my skin. I should’ve ordered something cold despite the wet weather outside.  

 

“How long has it been?”

 

 _Too long_. “Thirteen years.”

 

“Wow.” He looked shocked. _Didn’t he know that?_ Maybe it was only obvious to me. Maybe I was the only one who kept track of time. Did he even own a calendar?

 

I looked at my too hot coffee. I couldn’t drink it yet, but I contemplated dumping it on myself to get away. Just a little tilt of the cup—

 

“A lot can happen in thirteen years,” I said instead.

 

“No kidding.” He laughed quietly and his gaze dropped to his cup. He ran his finger along its rim. “School, marriage, children… I never thought any of that would happen for me, but…” he trailed off.  

 

“Do you have them?” I cleared my throat. “Children, I mean.”

 

“No, no. My wife and I don’t want children. We’re too busy.”

 

 _We’re too busy._ I’d love to be able to use that excuse. It would imply the existence of a person who had active participation in my affairs. Instead, I could barely remember the last time I had a pleasant, casual conversation with someone who I actually liked.

 

“That’s too bad,” I said, not meaning it.

 

“Yeah. Patty gets enough of kids as it is. She’s a pediatrician and works at her own practice, so she deals with all the patients.”

 

He married a successful woman. Fitting.

 

“Sorry, I’m talking too much about myself. What do you do? For a job, I mean.”

 

I finally took a sip of my coffee. “Uh… I’m a legal secretary.”

 

A grin lit up his face. “That’s great, Betts. That’s what you wanted to do, right?”

 

_No._

 

_Wrong._

 

I never wanted to be a legal secretary. I never wanted to work overtime at a stupid job that never paid enough.

 

I wanted to be a _lawyer_ . I wanted my _own_ successful firm, but instead, I was stuck. And his sudden presence in my life didn’t help either. It could have. I thought, when he’d bumped into me and pulled me out of the rain, that my life was taking a turn for the better, a turn I’d been waiting for forever. Things could have been different.

 

They _should have_ been different.

 

I should be married, happy, stable, and surrounded by people. I shouldn’t be back in my hometown, hiding from what I don’t have. I _should_ have it— _all of it._

 

“No, not really,” I blurted out, setting my cup down. I twisted my hands in my lap. “Actually, not at all. It’s not what I want. _This_ is not what I want.”

 

I looked up briefly to see his shocked expression and I realized I was making a fool of myself. I also realized I simply didn’t care. I got up from the chair, shrugged my jacket back on and wiped my sweaty palms on my pants.

 

“I’ve got to go, Jug. I’m so sorry,” I said in a rush. I couldn’t think, I had to leave.

 

“Betty, just wait—”

 

“Why is this the first time we’ve spoken?”

 

He looked up from his feet and stared at me in a familiar way. It stopped me in my tracks. Suddenly, we were fourteen again. He was Jughead, I was Betty, and nothing separated us. Not train tracks, not parents, not states, not people.

 

Not years.

 

“Can I show you something?” he asked softly. His eyes were warm and gentle.

 

I nodded, and he silently got up from his chair. He reached for my hand and I let him take it. We exited the diner onto the wet street.

 

“Where are we going?” I asked him quietly. Once again, we were nestled under his umbrella, far too close and yet somehow too far as well.

 

“You’ll see.”

 

I frowned. His hand felt strange wrapped around mine, but also very good—too good.

 

“I’m sorry about that,” I told him, “What I did in there.”

 

“How are you, Betty, really?” he asked without looking at my face. It made answering him truthfully easier.

 

“Not well.” It felt like the first time I’d been honest that day.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

I stepped in a puddle. Tears pricked at my eyes. “Everything.”

 

He looked at my face then, and seeing my expression, he squeezed my hand.

 

He said nothing as he led me to the place he wanted to go. In my state of mind, I didn’t notice the signs to where we were going. But when he stopped in front of a large oak stump, I realized where he’d taken me.

 

“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong if you don’t want to,” he said. “I get it. You were never one to ask for pity. More like… the suffer in silence type.”

 

I stared at the stump as he spoke.

 

“I screwed up here, Betts. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I did that. I promised you we’d keep in touch, and that we’d see each other soon but here we are, too many years later and it’s the first time.”

 

I nodded and leaned into him. My head found his arm and rested there.

 

“I’ll take the fault for this one. I got busy, but never too busy that I couldn’t have written to you. Never too busy that I couldn’t have come to visit you. I had always planned to, but life destroyed even my best-laid plans. Time passed without anyone’s approval.”

 

I stepped forward to the stump and sat down on it even though it was wet and instantly soaking straight through my pants. He took an answering step forward; the umbrella barely hovered over us both.

 

“My point is, I didn’t know where I was going. I thought I knew but I was wrong. Before I even realized, it had been several years and I’d forgotten about everything that I used to think was important... including you.”

 

I pondered his words as I traced with my finger around the thickest tree ring.

 

“But that’s just how it is. Life’s obstacles. You run into things.”

 

I spoke up finally. “Or people.”

 

Jughead chuckled and I looked up to catch a glimpse of the laugh lines around his eyes. Though they were usually a sign of age, somehow he appeared younger.

 

“Or people,” he repeated, still smiling.

 

I didn’t say anything as I looked back down at the place where my life had changed.

 

“I’ve got to leave now. But please try to remember that when everything else is uncertain, I won’t be. Not anymore.”

 

I nodded. I heard him step towards me, and I saw him place a card next to my hand. I stared at the card with his name on it.

 

“I’ll talk to you soon, Betts. Keep in touch.”

 

I nodded and heard the sound of his retreating footsteps against the wet grass. I didn’t look up until I was sure he was gone.

 

The rain had finally stopped. Instead of a cold, bitter wind, my face was met with a cool mist.

 

I got up off the stump and slipped his card into my pocket. Before I walked away, out of that park, out of the memory, I glanced back toward the remnants of the tree. On the surface of the stump, I spotted the markings scratched in by two young kids who’d loved each other and still had everything, their entire lives, ahead of them.

 

JUG ♥ BETTS FVR

 

Maybe we still did.

.

.

.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts. You can comment below, or find me on tumblr at psychobetts. xx


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